Hanging by a Moment
by SamanthaMae
Summary: Curly Shepard enjoys his night home alone until his sister arrives, looking for someone to comfort her. oneshot


**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Outsiders, nor will I ever.

A/N: I felt like writing a short one-shot based on Curly and Angela's relationship. A great big thank you goes to xocrazililkelox for help me with this. Any kind of reviews are extremely appreciated : )

_**Hanging by a Moment**_

The Shepard household was silent. No one else was home, and that's just the way Curly liked it.

He sat on the beat up couch, lighting another cigarette. This was fucking cool; Mom and her husband were gone for the _whole_ weekend, Tim was in jail for another week, and Angela was out doing God knows what.

All Curly had to do was sit back and relax. Tim had told David to keep the gang in charge, and Curly didn't know why. The younger Shepard could have done it--he could find a way to make those boys listen to him. Somehow.

He'd probably choke one of them if he heard "You ain't Tim, Curly!" again.

He never even said he _wanted _to be Tim.

Curly frowned when he realized it was his last night alone. Mom and that fucking drunk would be home tomorrow evening, so he decided to find some more liquor. It was bound to be around the master bedroom somewhere.

While throwing Angela's clothes out of his way in the hall, he spotted a pile of broken glass near the doorway, surrounded by a dry puddle of red. _Someone_ in the master bedroom had thrown a bottle of wine at the door.

That fucking bastard. Curly would have a thing or two to tell Tim once he came back.

He took a handful of the glass, then cried out in curses and threw it back down. His palm and the tips of his fingers were covered in cuts. He didn't think about that…

"Tim!" Curly heard while holding his hand.

"Angela?" he called back, walking to the living room.

"Yeah, hi, where's Tim?"

Curly raised an eyebrow. "In jail. You know that."

He turned around to get toilet paper from the bathroom while hearing his sister sigh in frustration. Oh God, what was wrong with her now?

"I really needed to talk to him," she said loudly so he could hear. He wished he couldn't.

He turned on the tap and ran his hand under it. "He's been jailed for two weeks, you know that!"

A few minutes later, he came back into the living room and found Angela lighting a cigarette. One of _his_ cigarettes.

He yanked it away. "Don't smoke, Angel."

She took another one out of his pack. "I'll smoke if I goddamn want to."

Curly rolled his eyes and took the cigarette pack away from her. "Then get your own."

"Fuck you, Curly," she snapped, crossing her arms and staring ahead. Curly ran his fingers through his hair nervously, debating on whether or not she was drunk. "Quit actin' like Tim. Where is he, anyway?"

"In _jail_," he repeated for the thousandth time. "Why, what do you want?"

She shrugged. "Nothing."

"Angel…"

She looked up at him with that disgusted look. "What? Nothing."

He shook his head and started his way to the kitchen, then heard,

"I just broke up with Bryon."

Curly turned around and tried to hide a smile. "Where're we havin' the party?" he asked. Angela threw him a dirty look. She knew how much Curly had hated Bryon Douglas, even before they dated, so why would that bother her?

"It ain't like that."

"Then what's it like?"

Angela sighed. "We were at a party, and I was drinkin' a little bit, then I went up to him in front of his friends and told him I just didn't like him anymore."

Curly almost laughed. "You really did that?" He sat on the couch beside her.

"Yeah…so he told me it was alright, and that I was bad in bed anyway."

The happiness in Curly's smile quickly faded. He was sure that Angela and Bryon hadn't made it to the bedroom and that Bryon was just saying something so obnoxious to look good in front of his friends.

"I'll get him for you," Curly simply said, wondering where he put his switchblade last.

Angela shook her head. "I wanna talk to Tim about it."

"Well, Tim ain't here, an' I'm the best you got."

They both sat in silence, staring ahead, while Curly wished they had a television. If only their mother didn't sell it.

"It just isn't fair," Angela muttered, her breath reeking with alcohol.

"Life ain't fair. Life ain't never fair. You want rain, you get sun. You want sun, you get rain. You want girlfriends, you get slapped."

Angela softly chuckled. "Y'know, you're a lot like Tim when he's in jail."

Curly had no idea what she meant, but before he could think about it, Angela was leaning against him, her face on his chest, wrapping her arms around his stomach. He completely froze, wondering what the hell she was doing.

"Um…Angela?"

"Me and Tim always do this when I'm upset."

Curly raised an eyebrow. He couldn't imagine Tim doing something like this to save his life. If Angela ever had a problem, wouldn't Tim just tell her to suck it up?

"I can't believe he'd do that," she murmured, sighing. "I thought he was different."

"How much did you drink?" Curly asked while his whole body tensed.

"A lot. Anyway, I bet that Mark guy had something to do with it. He always thought I wasn't a good match for Bryon, but I don't care--I hated his fucking guts, too."

Curly rolled his eyes. "Does Tim normally let you bitch like this?"

"Uh-huh," she replied, oblivious to her tone of voice. "I thought he was different, Curly. I really did. But he's just like the rest of them."

He thought about the situation for a moment. Here she was, drunk and hurt, talking to him about her feelings. Her goddamn _feelings_, as if he actually gave a shit about what was wrong with her. He had told her over and over again Bryon was a fucking idiot, but of course, she wouldn't listen.

But right now, all she wanted was Tim to be home with him telling her everything was going to be okay.

"All guys are the same," Curly told her, putting his arm around her shoulders. There was no harm in being a good brother, was there?

"I met one."

"Yeah, who?"

"I think you know him. Ponyboy Curtis, he was in Dallas's gang."

Curly nodded. "Safe to say we're buddies, I guess."

"Can you ask him about me?"

"Sure," he said, while thinking it was the worst idea he'd ever heard.

Angela half-snorted. "Now Heather's talking to Laurie about going after Bryon. Jesus, as if that girl don't have enough guys under her damned belt. She's ugly as hell, too. An' now I'm kind of mad at Laurie for tellin' on Heather."

Curly didn't say anything. He couldn't find himself to understand what she was even talking about.

"For all I know, she could be doin' the same thing to me."

He nodded drousily. This was making him tired.

"Judy's even being shady to me. The other day we had plans, but she said she had to baby-sit. I just looked at her and told her I ain't stupid."

"Well, guys are dicks an' girls are idiots," Curly told her, referring to his own experiences.

"That ain't fair. Who am I supposed to depend on? Obviously not our parents…"

"You got me an' Tim," he replied quietly, and then wondered where the hell that came from.

She nodded. "I know."

Angela must have had it pretty rough that night. Of course, she didn't cry--if she did, Curly would have killed Bryon. Douglas was really getting it, Curly decided. He was gonna hunt him the fuck down, flip a blade opened and threaten Douglas until he was shaking out of his skin.

"Don't you worry about Bryon," Curly said. "He's gonna be sorry in the mornin'."

They were silent for a few seconds, and then Curly realized Angela had fallen asleep. While normally he'd shove her off and tell her to get the hell away from him, he closed his eyes and wondered.

Tim did this all the time? He comforted Angela every time she was upset? That must not have been too often, since Curly had never witnessed it..

Tim must not have an easy job, dealing with a gang and taking care of Curly and Angela.

Curly sighed and leaned his head against the couch's arm.

And in a second he was sleeping.


End file.
